


Novel Circumstances

by smokeopossum



Series: I'm Your Biggest Fan [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Airplane Sex, Blowjobs, F/F, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Ridiculousness Continues, Threesome - F/F/F mention, Trans Female Character, handjobs, these hands are only capable of creating filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 01:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeopossum/pseuds/smokeopossum
Summary: “... Was that ajoke?Didthe Widowmakerjust make ajoke?Can’t believe Hana and Lúcio missed it,” she mutters with a slowly growing smile. Amélie rolls her eyes, but her irritation is obviously feigned.“They will never believe you.”





	Novel Circumstances

**Author's Note:**

> i'm. tired  
> finished this while my internet was out from hurricane irma in between depression naps
> 
> please don't read this if you're transphobic. please.
> 
>  
> 
> [something something shill because i'm poor click this to circumvent ao3's rules](https://smokeopossum.tumblr.com/)

Training outside was often a good way for Lena to clear her head. Something about the fresh air as she ran laps combined with the sunshine and chirping of songbirds always helped to center herself - she figured it was as close to a form of meditation someone like her could get. It didn’t always work as intended, though. Sometimes it kept her too in her own head, stewing in thoughts she’d rather be rid of, and could be especially troublesome just before a mission.

Such was the predicament she found herself in currently, panting as she raced around the track with her thoughts full of the latest chapter Emily had sent her.

It’s not her fault, of course. Emily was often shy about sending her writing to her, leaving Lena to prod her for updates. And they were generally _very good_ updates! If she had known Widowmaker would be assisting on their next mission, however, she might have saved the read for after.

Sweat drips down her spine as she replays the last scene she had read - one of Widowmaker casually jerking her off on a return flight late at night, making her keep quiet in their position at the back of the cabin so no one else would notice. It had ended with Widowmaker covertly wiping off her accelerator and licking her fingers clean, a mental image that refuses to leave her head no matter how hard she runs.

She stumbles and nearly falls on her face, recalling at the last second to save herself, and almost trips again with the momentum. She decides to start winding down her run after that, slowing to a jog as she struggles to get wet, purple lips out of her mind. The jog slows to a walk and she heads back to the base on autopilot, headed for the locker room to clean up.

Lost so deeply in her thoughts, she bumps into someone on her way in. A strong hand catches her by shoulder before she’s knocked to the ground.

“Whoa, hey! You okay?” Lúcio asks, sending Lena a smile. “Saw you running pretty hard out there.”

She blinks rapidly, smiling back at him when he registers in her brain. “Yeah! Yeah, sorry about that. Feeling a bit zonked out, might have overdone it a bit.”

“Everything alright?” he asks with a comforting squeeze to her shoulder. He wrinkles his nose slightly when his hand comes back significantly more damp, but the smile doesn’t falter. “You were out there for a while. Something on your mind?”

Lena feels her face heat and hopes her flush from running obscures it. “Nothing too worrying. Just thinking about the mission coming up.”

Lúcio nods in understanding. “Yeah, I get you. Hopefully once we clear out all those anti-omnic measures, the favelas will be safer for _everyone_. We’ve got this.”

Although meant to be an optimistic message of support, his words are sobering. Lena is almost relieved to have something _real_ to be concerned over.

“I know I can always count on you, Lúcio. Thanks, mate.”

He gives her a thumbs up and a grin before skating off down the hallway. “See you at the briefing later!” he calls out. Lena waves with a grin that fades as he turns the corner.

_The mission. Focus on the mission. Wanking can come later._

* * *

 

The briefing is a solemn affair - Winston reminds them of their objectives and the timetable, then pulls up a map of the area and points out potential locations for ambush or traps. The group being deployed is small, but capable: Lúcio will lead them, keeping the ground force consisting of Tracer and D.va mobile and safe while they deactivate and sabotage the anti-omnic broadcast towers, while Widowmaker watches for threats from above, neutralizing them at a distance when possible and warning of those she cannot.

Tracer sneaks a glance over at her and sees her glower at Winston at the implication she could let a threat past. She bites her lip to stifle the smile threatening to spill over onto her face. He gives Widowmaker an apologetic look before moving on to backup plans in case anything should go wrong during the mission.

If her eyes hang on Widowmaker's mission gear a little too long, no one mentions it. It's only slightly less ridiculous than the suit Talon put her in - skintight pants and what amounts to a Kevlar crop top cut to show off an honestly absurd amount of cleavage. Tracer thought she was dreaming or getting pranked when she first saw it.

Considering the late takeoff, Hana and Lúcio choose to get a few hours rest while they can. Amélie remains awake and alert, watching with unblinking golden eyes as Lena enters the cabin from the cockpit clutching her thermos of tea.

“They’ve already nodded off?” she mumbles to herself, pouting somewhat at the sight of Lúcio and Hana kicked back in their aft facing chairs, fast asleep. Figures.

She heads past them to take a seat on the divan next to Amélie, who watches her closely as she takes a drink. The silence between them feels awkward, at least to Lena’s mind.

“Not gonna get any shuteye?” she asks when the quiet becomes too much for her. Widowmaker lets out a huff of air that might have been a laugh and slowly crosses her legs. Tracer tries not to watch.

“This trip is short. I have no need.”

Lena nods, avoiding her gaze, and takes another drink of tea, focusing on the warmth as it goes down. She’s not expecting Widowmaker to speak again.

“Why do you not sleep?”

She nearly coughs tea out of her nose. Hana briefly frowns in her sleep, but doesn’t shift otherwise.

“Never sleep on flights anymore,” she quietly offers, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her jacket. Widowmaker nods, accepting the answer at its face, and falls quiet again. The silence feels less uncomfortable than it had previously, somehow, but it still bothers Lena. The memory of Emily’s latest chapter might have something to do with her discomfort, but she’s trying _really hard_ not to think about it.

She fiddles with the lid of her thermos. “Don’t suppose you’d like to play any games while we wait?”

Another huff from Amélie. Lena feels a flicker of warmth in her chest at the noise and blames it on the tea.

“We could play I Spy, but I believe I would have an unfair advantage.” Lena looks up at her for the first time in shock and catches her tapping at the gleaming lenses of her new visor with a smirk.

“... Was that a _joke?_ Did _the Widowmaker_ just make a _joke?_ Can’t believe Hana and Lúcio missed it,” she mutters with a slowly growing smile. Amélie rolls her eyes, but her irritation is obviously feigned.

“They will never believe you.”

Lena pouts. “Well you’re right about that one. Don’t think anybody would - well, nobody we work with.”

“Oh? Does that mean Emily would?”

Tracer feels her heart jump into her throat. She mentally scrolls back through every conversation she’s ever had with or around Amélie for any mention of Emily. It could have happened, chances are it has, but hearing her mention Emily still sends Lena’s pulse racing. How much does she know?

“Uh,” she dumbly begins, mouth suddenly dry despite the half empty thermos in her hand, the top of which has become an endless source of fascination. She clicks it open and shut as she mumbles out a response. “Yeah, probably.”

Widowmaker gives a noncommittal hum, soft smirk unseen by Tracer.

“Do you mention me a lot to her, chérie?”

 _“Um.”_ Lena takes a long sip of tea, scrambling for something to say. Would it be weird to say yes? Would it be weird to say _no?_ Every answer she could give feels wrong, which she’s slowly ascertaining is the point. Her eyes hesitantly lift to meet Widowmaker’s.

“Suppose that depends on how you define ‘a lot’, doesn’t it?”

A thin, dark eyebrow slowly lifts. She uncrosses and recrosses her legs.

“I suppose it does.” There’s a long, heavy pause. Lena almost thinks it’s the end of the conversation - she certainly hopes it is - but alas. She feels Widowmaker lean closer to her, voice suddenly low and teasing near her ear.

“I did not expect the piercings, but I enjoyed them.”

 _“Pardon?”_ she squeaks out, eyes widening as her head whips in Amélie's direction, finding herself face to face with her. She pays no mind to Lúcio’s sleepy grumble at her outburst.

“I enjoyed your piercings,” Amélie slowly repeats, lips curling into a smug smirk. “I would not have guessed, but they suit you. Very pretty.”

Her eyes slowly drop to Lena’s chest, in case there was any doubt about her meaning, before flicking back up. A wave of mortification crashes over Lena at the realization.

 _“Oh shit you saw,”_ she whispers as a fierce blush takes over her face. “How much did you see? Don’t answer that.” Amélie’s smirk only widens. “Sodding _hell._ Why were you _there?”_

“I had hoped to speak to you and clear the air between us since my decision to... ‘depart’ from Talon and freelance with Overwatch. You seemed to be otherwise occupied, however.”

“And you just decided to stay and _watch?”_

“You appeared to be playing to an audience. At times it seemed as if you knew I was there.”

Tracer doesn’t have a response to that. She wonders if it would be too detrimental to the mission if she jumped out of the plane ten hours early. Hana and Lúcio could probably take care of things on their own, right?

“You couldn’t hear anything, could you?” Lena asks, muffled as she drags a hand down her face.

“Mm, non. My visor does not have that functionality just yet.” Her eyes seem to sparkle. “Tell me, what was I missing out on, hm?”

 _“Nothing,”_ Tracer immediately replies. She can feel her _ears_ burning, bloody _hell._

“A pity. It must have been _very_ enjoyable. You have quite the stamina, _oui?”_

 _“Stop.”_ The word comes out as a strangled whine, but Widowmaker ceases her teasing and leans away from her all the same.

Lena goes back to contemplating the pros and cons of recalling into midair thousands of miles above the ocean until Amélie tears her from her thoughts once more.

“... Désolée. I did not mean to overstep my bounds. Emily is very pretty, and you seem happy together. You are both very lucky to have each other,” she says quietly. Lena could almost swear she seems _disappointed,_ and feels a hysterical laugh bubble up in her chest. She stuffs it down and clears her throat instead, though her lips twitch into a smile.

“Suppose that’s the single downside of you not getting to hear us, then.”

Amélie gives her an odd look, tilting her head curiously. Lena debates whether or not to continue and decides she’s already in too deep to back out. She goes back to fiddling with the lid of her thermos as she speaks.

“We were, ah. Chatting about you. For most of it.”

 _“... Quoi?”_ Amélie’s brows draw together.

Lena flaps a hand. “For the whole thing, practically. Started with me finding out Emily was writing _fic_ about the two of us together, and then it just sort of devolved into... all of that. We, uh.” She cracks a weak smile. “We actually teased about how you might’ve been watching us, if that explains that. Reckon joke’s on us.”

A number of microexpressions cross Widowmaker’s face as she blinks. She’s still and silent for a moment before nodding slowly.

“I see. What do you mean by ‘fic’?”

Lena huffs out a laugh and blows her bangs away from her eyes. “Fic, like fanfiction? Em’s gonna kill me for telling you, probably, but she’s been writing about us - stories about how we might talk and act with each other? Except... they’re all naughty, so far.” Tracer chuckles nervously. “As far as I know she doesn’t post them anywhere, even if they’re really good - I’ve gotta noodge her to even send them to _me.”_

She blushes when she realizes what exactly that implies about her at roughly the same moment Widowmaker does.

The smirk slowly creeps back onto her face.

“I see,” Amélie repeats. She rests a casual hand at Tracer’s knee, firm and cool as her thumb pets at her. Lena’s spine goes ramrod straight. “And what kinds of things does she write about happening between us?”

 _“Um!”_ Her voice has gone high and strained. She chances a look at Lúcio and Hana to find them still softly snoozing, entirely deaf to the conversation currently happening and completely incapable of saving her from it. “Just, y’know. Stuff. Things. They can be a bit silly, actually, you probably wouldn’t want to hear about them.”

Widowmaker’s hand squeezes and drags halfway up her thigh before returning to her knee. Lena’s chest stutters. Her grip on her thermos has turned white-knuckled beneath her gloves.

“Come now, chérie. Surely you can spare a few details from one.”

She swallows harshly as long fingers start tracing spiral patterns over the stretchy material of her leggings. “I, uh. Well, funny enough - and really, the timing could _not_ be worse... better? on this one - but _funny enough,_ the last one she sent me involved us - you and me, that is - on a return trip from a mission.” Lena clears her throat, feeling herself warm as Amélie leans closer to her. “We, er. Get a bit frisky in the back of the cabin.”

Amélie lets out a low chuckle, the noise dripping down Lena’s spine and pooling between her legs. “Mm, ‘frisky’? I don’t think I understand.”

The awful woman is going to make her go into the nitty-gritty. Somehow, Lena isn’t surprised.

“It’s, you know - naughty. Lewd. The others on the mission were asleep--” she glances over at their serendipitously sleeping comrades, “--leaving the two of us alone. And you started getting... handsy.” Her eyes slide to the hand still at her knee, gulping as it begins creeping higher. When she resumes talking, it’s in more of a nervous whisper.

“You pretend like you’re, ah, not even doin’ anything, and tell me to keep quiet when you start, um. Playing with my knob.”

“An interesting take on my character,” Amélie murmurs, fingers now skating around Lena’s inner thighs. “You must discuss me a lot. Continue?”

Lena wants to argue, but finds she has nothing to back it up - they _do._ So she continues recanting the story instead, face hot.

“I start getting a bit noisy so you lean in and kiss me,” she breathes, letting out a soft whine when a finger drifts too far up and grazes her crotch. She’s having a hard enough time keeping soft already, she doesn’t need to struggle with actually being _touched_ by Widowmaker.

“You can be quite the noisy girl,” Amélie agrees, squeezing at her inner thigh. “I bet you are pretty at full volume. A _shame_ you must keep quiet in this scenario.” Widowmaker bats her eyelashes with a slow smile. “What happens next?”

Lena squirms.

“You pull me from my leggings and tease me for a while, then start wanking me until I cum all over my accelerator, and then you wipe me up and lick your fingers clean. And that’s as far as I’d gotten through it before we got on the ship,” she finishes, hoping she’s not asked to elaborate further.

 _“Que ç'est lubrique,”_ Amélie murmurs. Her hand finally slips to the apex of her thighs and squeezes, making Lena squeak. “That Emily of yours has quite the imagination. Did you bring the rest with you?”

Tracer gapes at her as she starts hardening under her palm. Unsurprisingly, she’s struggling to keep up with the conversation. “Did I-- _what?”_

“The rest of the story,” Widowmaker explains, casually massaging her. “We have some time, do we not? I’ve always preferred to read during flights.”

“No, didn’t bring it,” Tracer breathes. “Wanted to keep my focus on the mission and, well. Would’ve been a bit awkward reading it right next to you.” It’s more of a coherent answer than she was expecting from herself while Widowmaker’s hand strokes her through her compression tights.

“Mm. I suppose we will have to find some other way to entertain ourselves, then. Do you believe Emily would be upset if we did a little storytelling of our own?”

She squeezes again and Lena quietly gasps, heat rushing through her. “No, definitely not. I know she’d _love_ to hear about it when we get back home, though.”

“I wouldn’t mind retelling it in person,” Amélie whispers. Her fingers lazily sweep along the bulge in her leggings, drifting towards the waistband. “Let’s start where you left off, hm?”

“Yeah, alright,” Lena faintly replies. “I’m gonna laugh if she predicted where we take it, though.”

Widowmaker doesn’t reply, instead moving to press her lips against hers in a tentative kiss. Tracer responds eagerly, setting aside her thermos and reaching up to cup her cheek as she leans into it.

She kisses differently than Emily - less confident than she was expecting and more willing to let her take the lead with it, with soft lips that stay cool to the touch. Lena introduces tongue into the kiss and quietly whimpers when it touches Amélie’s, wet but not quite warm as it pets along her own.

The feeling of fingers slipping under her waistband has her pressing more firmly into the kiss, mouth opening to let Amélie explore as she pulls her from her leggings. Her cool, gloved hand gently slides up her length, thumb running over the tip as her tongue slips into her mouth.

Lena struggles not to moan. Her legs spread as she starts to tug at her, squeezing at her head on every pass, and she feels herself get close much too soon - this has all been a lot for her to take in, and actually having Amélie’s tongue in her mouth and her hand on her knob is better than imagining it by at _least_ tenfold. And, well, she _is_ a bit of an exhibitionist.

She whines softly as the strokes get firmer and faster, with Widowmaker beginning to take more control over the kiss. Her hips jerk as her lower lip is sucked and nibbled, each brush of teeth sending sparks through her. She throbs in her hand and pats at Amélie’s knee in warning, reluctant to break their kiss, but finds her pulling away regardless.

“Are you going to cum for me, Lena?” Widowmaker purrs, low and silky as she gives her a hungry look. Lena’s head tips back against the seat and she barely manages to whisper a “yes” in between her quiet panting. Amélie leans in to brush her lips against her ear.

“I cannot _wait_ to clean it up.”

The promise sends her over the edge, entire body tensing and twitching as she starts to cum. Warmth rushes from her, splattering against the lower casing of her accelerator before spilling over Amélie’s knuckles. She feels her tug her leggings out of the way of the mess as it trickles down and makes a mental note to thank her later.

Amélie coaxes out the last of her release and Lena expects her to pull away, finding herself sorely mistaken when a cool tongue begins lapping her clean, starting at her base and working up. Her eyes shoot open to the surprising sight of Widowmaker leaning over and licking up the mess.

“Oh fuck,” she whispers, gasping as a cool mouth settles around her tip, slick tongue sliding and swirling around it. Once she’s satisfactorily clean, Amélie pulls away and licks at her gloves, hooded golden eyes meeting her own.

“You taste so good, chérie,” she murmurs once she’s done, smirking at the obvious tremor that runs through Tracer at her words. She reaches over to drag her finger along the accelerator, swiping up the cum that made it there, and slowly runs it over a dark purple lower lip.

Lena swallows harshly and watches with wide eyes as her tongue darts out to lick it up and full purple lips proceed to suck the finger clean. When Amélie seems pleased with the state of it, she reaches down to tuck Lena’s half hard cock back under her leggings and gives it a parting squeeze.

“Perhaps you would care to join me in the back of the plane?” Amélie quietly asks afterwards. “I’m feeling a little warm.”

“Yes please,” Tracer breathlessly responds. Her legs are shaky as she stands and follows her to the back of the cabin, towards the set of more comfortable traveler’s style seats facing the rear.

Widowmaker takes one and spreads her legs, glancing from the floor between them back to Tracer. Her expectation is clear, but she lets out a quiet “on your knees” regardless.

Lena obediently gets between her legs, knees meeting the rough carpet, and casts a nervous eye towards the front of the cabin before being drawn back to Widowmaker. Amélie spreads wider, one gloved hand running lazy fingers up the inseam of her tight pants all the way to the hidden fly.

“Can I?” Tracer finds herself asking. She licks her lips and hopes it didn't come out as desperately as she thinks it did.

“Be my guest,” Amélie responds, shifting to the edge of her seat with amusement on her face.

Lena's hands start at her knees and slowly pet up the thighs she's only ever dreamt about touching. She leans in as they trail higher, placing a fond kiss to her inner thigh as she fiddles with the hidden fly.

It's no more difficult than unhooking a bra. She peels them down Widowmaker's hips and confirms what she's suspected for quite some time - a conspicuous lack of knickers under her clothes. Lena licks her lips again as Amélie lifts up off the seat to assist in pulling them down, eyes widening as her slick, flushed slit is revealed.

She feels a little lightheaded.

“Enjoying the view, chérie?” Amélie asks, leaning back in her seat with a smirk as her pants gather at the tops of her boots.

Tracer just gawks, gaze laser focused between her thighs.

Widowmaker is only technically blue all the way down. She edges towards violet and even pink in places, her swollen clit a deep, pretty purple, and she's positively _dripping._ Lena lets out a slow breath, hands resting against Amélie's knees.

“You're bloody _gorgeous,”_ she whispers, briefly glancing up to her face before leaning in and meeting slick lips with her own in a tender, open-mouthed kiss. Amélie isn’t quite hot - she’s warm, yes, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of Lena’s mouth as she eagerly gets her first taste.

Amélie lets out a quiet sigh through her nose and threads the fingers of one hand through Lena's hair, pulling her closer. “Mm, that's it,” she breathes as Tracer kisses at her, hips grinding against her face. Her head tips back against the headrest as Lena introduces tongue, eyes slipping shut as it drags through her folds. “You are so _hot._ N'enlève jamais ta bouche de moi."

Lena whimpers and squeezes at her knees, licking and kissing as though she has to memorize every inch. A firm tug to her hair has her struggling to keep down a moan.

Widowmaker huffs as her mouth moves against her, hips rolling to meet her tongue’s desperate strokes. She’s beginning to make a mess of Tracer’s face, but neither of them seem to even notice.

Her hand cards through Lena’s messy spikes to cup the back of her head when she starts to suckle at her clit in a futile effort to keep her there. She lets out a quiet dissatisfied noise when Lena returns to slow, exploratory licks through her folds regardless, tugging at her hair when she feels her smile against her.

“Lena,” she huffs, nearly a whine. It’s high and soft, just barely short of desperate - Tracer shivers at the needy sound of her name coming from her. She squeezes at thick thighs and slowly drags her lips up Amélie’s folds to seal around her clit once more, tongue battering against the swollen nub as she sucks.

Widowmaker lets out a quiet gasp, hips jerking against her mouth. Her breathing slowly grows uneven with the steady swipes of her tongue. Lena quietly watches as she lavishes attention on her, eyes sliding up from the tense of her abs to dark lips parted in a silent moan, and feels herself throb in her leggings.

It’s absolutely a dream come true. Her face is covered in Amélie’s slickness, the warm, tangy scent filling her senses as thighs begin to squeeze around her head.

“Don’t stop,” Amélie quietly whimpers, the plea sending a spike of want through her. She can feel how she strains at her leggings now, but ignores it in favor of focusing on fast, even flicks over Widowmaker’s clit. Her hips jump and buck against Tracer’s face as she gets closer, fingers tightening in her hair, and soon she’s biting at her lip as she holds Lena against her and quietly cums.

Tracer can’t help the soft moan that escapes her at both the rough tug to her hair and the knowledge she just made Widowmaker lose it with nothing but her mouth. Her tongue runs gently through her folds as she calms down, lapping up the rest of the wetness while she can. The hand in her hair relaxes and tenderly pets as Amélie’s eyes flutter open.

“Bonne,” she says airily, brushing Lena’s bangs away from her face. “Your mouth is good for more than just chatter.”

Lena rolls her eyes as she reluctantly pulls away, and licks her lips before responding. “How hard do I have to make you cum before you’ll be nice?”

Widowmaker lets out a quiet chuckle. “Mm, I don’t know. But you are welcome to keep trying.”

She starts to sit up, hands drifting to where her pants are bunched up at her knees, and Lena gives her one last fond look.

“Well, maybe I’d have better luck with some help,” she teases. “Two on one sound like fair odds to you?”

Amélie’s eyes widen slightly. “She would be interested?”

“She’s not a _nun,_ Amélie. Although I reckon even a nun would drop the habit on the spot if you offered.” Tracer snorts at the mental image as Widowmaker redresses herself. “But yeah, of course Em’s interested. Are _you?”_

She sinks thoughtfully back into the chair. “... She is rather pretty. And the both of you are very pretty _together.”_

Tracer grins as she gets to her feet. “Well, think it over while I go wash up.” A grimace flashes over her face as her erection reminds her of its presence. “... And tug one out before they wake up.”

She looks to the front of the cabin to find Lúcio and Hana still blessedly knocked out, draped over their chairs almost to an uncomfortable looking extent. Widowmaker’s smug laughter brings her attention back once more.

“Are you sure I cannot assist, chérie?”

Lena shivers as Amélie slowly licks her lips, eyes resting between her legs. She gives an obvious pulse in her tights.

“Don’t know if I want to push it. We’ve already done enough, what if th-- oh bollocks,” she whispers as Amélie leans forward and hooks a finger into the waistband. Burning golden eyes swing up to meet her own.

“I have a feeling this will be quick,” Widowmaker teases as she inches it down. Lena bites her lip, eyes darting to their comrades and back.

“Well... alright. Feels like I’m not putting on the best performance, though, love.” Tracer blushes as she continues to pull her tights down right where she stands.

“There will be plenty of opportunities to prove your endurance later.”

It’s the last thing she says before leaning in and taking her into her mouth.

Lena forces herself to take a slow breath as Amélie’s cool lips slide all the way down to her base, jaw clenching in her struggle not to moan. A lukewarm tongue teases along the underside as she starts to suck, eyes flicking up and never leaving her own. Lena’s knees tremble as she slowly pulls back, mouth tight around her, and she locks them to keep from falling over when Amélie rubs her smirk against her head.

“Shit,” she gasps as Widowmaker opens her mouth and slowly licks at her, tongue occasionally flicking against the underside of her tip. A cool gloved hand reaches up to begin stroking along her length while the other keeps her leggings down.

Her hips buck as Widowmaker’s tongue teases over her slit. Tracer covers her mouth as she feels heat begin to twist inside of her once more, unsure if she can keep as quiet as she needs to be. When she seals her lips around her head once more and sucks hard, thumb just barely brushing along her balls, Tracer arches with a muffled squeak.

Shudders run through her body as she jerks into Amélie’s mouth, heat rushing down her spine and onto her waiting tongue. She breathes in sharply through her nose when she feels, rather than hears, Amélie moan around her, and is reminded of how messy she got her face earlier, Widowmaker's scent still clinging heavily to her skin. It sends another wave of heat rocketing through her.

When the pulses finally die off, Widowmaker slowly backs away once again. She rubs Lena’s still twitching tip along her lips and gives it a gentle parting kiss before leaning back in her seat with a smug smirk.

Tracer runs her hand over her face, quietly panting. She tucks herself haphazardly back into her tights with the other and takes an unsteady step backwards, towards the miniature bathroom.

“I’m,” she huffs, “I’ll be a minute.”

“Take your time,” Widowmaker says as she crosses her legs, slowly licking her lips. Tracer shivers at the sight before turning on her heel and heading to wash up.

She lets out a deep breath as she runs the sink and thinks over what just happened. The cool water feels perfect to her flushed face, and though it takes a bit more effort, eventually the smell is gone from her glove. She dabs water behind her neck and over the red tips of her ears, shaking her head at herself in the mirror.

“What the _hell,_ mate?” she whispers to her reflection. Her reflection doesn’t respond. She brushes her fringe from her face, readjusts herself in her leggings, and gives herself a onceover to make sure she’s presentable before she heads back into the plane proper.

Widowmaker is exactly as she left her, reclined in her seat with her legs crossed and patiently waiting with the same smug look. Lúcio and Hana are _still_ asleep at the front, and honestly, she’ll have to buy them a cake after this.

She takes the seat next to Widowmaker and immediately begins feeling awkward about what just happened between them.

“So,” she begins, then abruptly ends. She didn’t think out the rest of what to say, she just felt like she should say _something._

“Do you head back to Emily as soon as the debriefing is over?” Amélie asks, turning to look at her curiously. It’s a topic Lena latches onto gratefully.

“Yeah! Usually, I mean, depends on if Winston needs me to hang around for another job. Would you want to come back with me this time? I’ll admit I don’t know what you usually do when we’re not working together - besides peep on me, apparently.” She giggles softly while Amélie scoffs.

“That would be... nice. I could find a hotel nearby and we could get dinner, the three of us.”

“Well, you _could_ do that,” Tracer agrees. “Or... you could stay with us. We’ve got a guest bedroom if sleeping together’s a bit too intimate, and it would save loads on travel time.”

She grins widely. “Plus we’ve got all our toys at home.”

Widowmaker arches a brow. “It wouldn’t be moving too fast?”

Lena giggles again and leans back in the seat. “Too fast? Don’t know the meaning of it. Besides, we’ve been flirting for years at this point, yeah? Only thing left is to get you and Em acquainted, and I bet you’ll love each other.” She sends Widowmaker a smile. “There’s no rush on this though - it’s a decision that can wait until after the mission, at least.”

Amélie hums in acknowledgment and continues to think it over as she reclines in her seat. Lena licks her lips, the taste of Widowmaker still strong in her mouth, and thinks back to Emily's story as a comfortable quiet settles between them.

Of all the things to facilitate a relationship with Widowmaker, Tracer never would have guessed her girlfriend's naughty fanfiction would be the ticket.

**Author's Note:**

> Que ç'est lubrique = How lewd  
> N'enlève jamais ta bouche de moi. = Don't ever take your mouth off of me.
> 
> bunny - Today at 3:36 AM  
> widowmaker is the type of person who will shamelessly fart in the car right before lena picks up friends and when asked just notes that they'll all think it was lena anyway  
> possum - Today at 3:38 AM  
> hdjfkjh


End file.
